


Eight Minutes

by thugcorpseinc



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Biting, Breathplay, Choking, College Student Peter, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Hand Jobs, Interns & Internships, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 14:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13977249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thugcorpseinc/pseuds/thugcorpseinc
Summary: Peter Parker is just the average college student. The most interesting thing about him is the fact he had miraculously landed an internship with Stark Industries, even if they assured him he'd never actually meet Tony Stark.





	Eight Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> This is just shameless porn. My other fic was supposed to have been PWP but grew a big ol' plot so I did this to let some steam off. Peter is legal, consenting age in this one. I usually do formatting for texting but this being just a short thing, I didn't bother.

Peter entered the boardroom with a tray of Starbucks and immediately prayed thanks for whatever higher power was out there that he had used the restroom before coming upstairs because he absolutely would have pissed himself. The only head that turned his way belonged to Tony Stark. The Tony Stark. You know, the CEO of Stark Industries, the wealthiest man in the world, the most eligible bachelor, so-on-and-so-forth. In a room full of “important” people the single most important one of all was the one who paid Peter Parker, lowly intern, any mind.

“Oh thank god,” Stark said. Peter drank him in, feeling like he was under water; Tony Stark was even more handsome in person than he was in pictures. That was literally possible. Sound came back in all at once when Stark stood, his chair scraping the floor. The meeting had stopped entirely, which was literally the opposite of what Peter had been told to do. He was supposed to bring the coffee in, set it down without disrupting anything, and then leave. “Bring those here, set them down,” Stark said, waving Peter over.

Peter’s feet finally unstuck and he started to walk. No one even so much as glanced at him. Except Stark, who watched him with dark, intense eyes. God and those eyelashes. Peter’s hands shook as he lowered the cardboard tray and started to unload the drinks. “Who ordered-”

“Me. They’re all for me. I literally can’t keep my eyes open right now, ace job on getting here so fast,” Stark cut him off. He wasn’t looking at the coffee though, his eyes were still on Peter. Peter swallowed a nervous laugh, flushing and placing all four cups in front of Tony, the two iced ones he carefully put on napkins.

Stark leaned over and moved the cups, rearranging them. The motion sent the man’s cologne wafting over Peter, who breathed it in greedily. _Stay cool, stay cool,_ Peter thought over and over, his heart pounding. Task done, he backed up and stumbled over the leg of the chair. _Oh no_ , he thought in panic, his entire body flooding with embarrassment. It was just a little stumble, he wasn’t going to fall to the ground or anything equally terrifying but it drew attention to him in a way he was not prepared for. Especially when a strong hand caught his arm completely unnecessarily. Peter, eyes wide with wonder, stuttered out a thank you and excused himself in a hurry.

Tony Stark touched him and it was literally the most terrifying and exciting thing that had ever happened to him. He leaned on the wall outside of the boardroom and ran his hands over his face before he reached into his pocket and took his phone out. A business card fluttered to the floor and Peter stooped to pick it up slowly, already reading the name in thick block letters on the front. 

**Tony Stark, CEO Stark Industries**

Peter flipped it, seeing a short handwritten note on the back. The letters were stocky and computer-like, exactly what Peter would imagine Tony Stark’s handwriting to look like. _Text me when you find this._ The next line was a phone number and Peter dropped his phone in his urgency. Thankfully it was in a LifeProof case and just bounced harmlessly off the mirror-shined tile flooring. He proceeded to flee to the elevators then to the restrooms several floors down, his phone already pressed to his ear.

“I’m at work, is this seriously a three-call emergency,” Michelle said in annoyance when she finally answered. Peter cupped his hand over the phone and huddled against the bathroom stall. No one had come in but he was two seconds from freaking out, he had to keep his voice low or he was going to shout. 

“Tony Stark just gave me his phone number and said to text him,” Peter rushed out. There was a brief silence. He knew she believed him, she had to, he wouldn’t joke about-

“That is a three-call emergency,” Michelle said seriously, “Did you text him?”

“No, God no, I don’t even know what to say,” Peter hissed. 

“What happened, what was the context?”

“I delivered Starbucks to the board meeting. Well, just to Mr. Stark, apparently he ordered four coffees just for himself-”

“Cut to the chase, and?”

“And that’s it. I tripped over his chair and I guess he slipped his card in my pocket when he caught me.” 

“You are a walking cliche, Parker, seriously,” Michelle cackled, “He’s a pig and he wants to fuck you.”

“Do you really think so?” 

“Geez, don’t sound so excited to be objectified,” Michelle said, flippant as ever. “What else would he want with an attractive, young, twink intern, to read your thesis?”

“I just…oh my god. Michelle. This is…amazing. This is everything I’ve dreamed of since I was twelve years old. This is…horrible. I’m not ready, I haven’t shaved. I haven’t-”

“I had no idea you were such a groupie,” Michelle said, sounding genuinely surprised. Peter went silent. “Not slut shaming. Go for it, seriously.” She really sounded genuine though, which made him feel slightly better.

Peter stared at his phone and the digits on the card, hesitating, then punching them in to a new message. He went with a simple greeting.

_Hey. It’s Peter Parker. I brought the Starbucks._

That was good, way more confident than Peter actually felt. He wasn’t prepared for the immediate response, expecting Stark to be too busy to reply. 

**Peter or Pete. Petey?**

_Peter, thanks._

**Got it. I pulled your file. So now that I know you and you already know me, what do you say we skip the pleasantries?**

_You sure know how to make a guy feel special._

**You don’t feel special?**

_No, I do, that wasn’t sarcastic._

**What are you doing in, say, six minutes?**

_Going back to work?_

**Where are you now?**

_Honestly? Hiding in a bathroom._

**Great, stay put, I’ll be down there in t-minus.**

_How do you know where I am?_

**It’s my building.**

_Right._

Peter, of course, sent a screenshot to Michelle, who replied with a fire emoji and a thumbs up. That was perhaps the least supportive response he could have gotten but he wasn’t sure he had it in him to ask for some encouragement.

How was this real life? It would have been enough to just deliver the coffee to Stark, that would have been his “it” moment he would talk about for years. They told him when he started this internship he would likely never get to personally meet Stark. When he was getting ready that morning and gotten a text to stop at a Starbucks for an order, he assumed it was for his instructors. Never in a million years would he have assumed the little cardboard tray was going to the executive meeting room and subsequently,Tony Stark.

Peter got out of the stall and washed his hands more out of compulsion than actually being soiled and checked himself in the mirror. He looked okay but it wasn’t one of his best days. His hair could use a little more volume and he could have picked a more fitted shirt but it could definitely be worse. He leaned close to the mirror and resisted the urge to pick at a hair he missed shaving. 

“Fuck,” Peter hissed to himself. Who was he kidding? He was in no shape to be in a bathroom for some scandalous rendezvous with Tony Stark. Not only that but what if this was a set up? But how could it be? He’d literally spoken to one person since getting to work and no one but Stark had touched him. It was real. 

Did it make him a groupie? Yes. Absolutely. Because Peter had had the hots for Stark since puberty and who knew if this opportunity would come up again. Seize your moment, right? If Peter’s moment was sucking Stark off in a bathroom, holy shit, there were definitely worse moments to have. In fact Peter had probably jerked off to this fantasy once or twice. 

But this was the actual, real life Tony Stark, not a fantasy. And Peter Parker didn’t get the things he wanted for free. He had to get out of there before he made some sort of horrible mess of things. And Murphy’s law dictated that if it could go wrong, it would for Peter.

Peter turned and headed for the door and just as he was reaching for the handle, it swung towards him, making him step back in surprise. His mouth, which he realized was hanging open, snapped shut.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve gotten that response before,” Stark said with a snort. “ _Rapt horror._ ”

“Oh, no, no, I just, wow, you’re actually here,” Peter replied, backing up as Stark walked in. The door shut and clicked, which, okay, Peter didn’t even know they locked. Stark was nonchalant but Peter couldn’t help but feel like prey in the most adrenaline inducing sort of way. 

The bathrooms on this floor weren’t as big or fancy as the ones near the executive meeting room, which was why Peter went to them. Stark was a commanding presence despite being shorter than Peter expected and a lot less intimidating when he didn’t have sunglasses on. They were about the same height actually, nearly eye to eye. Stark walked past him further into the bathroom but his head turned, gaze going back to Peter. Even six feet apart Peter’s heart was racing. He’d only been looked at like that a couple of times and never by someone as...well. Anything at all like Tony Stark.

“We are on the same page, right? Because I’m not getting much of a read on you here,” Stark said. Peter was too busy looking at Stark, who was older up close than on his Ted Talks and seminars. “Are we even reading the same book or…?”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry, I’m just really nervous,” Peter breathed out, smiling because he smiled when he was anxious. Stark looked relieved.

“Nervous I can work with,” the older man said, approaching Peter. He stood, meeting the man’s dark eyes steadily, drinking in the moment. But honestly, it only got better because Stark took him by the hip and their lips met. Peter really was a walking cliche because he could swear fireworks went off behind his closed eyelids as they kissed. Stark had to feel it too because his grip drew him in closer and he groaned into it. Peter replied with a moan and hesitated before he slid one hand under Stark’s blazer, the other resting on the side of the older man’s neck. 

Holy shit, he was making out with Tony Stark. 

When they parted, Peter was breathless and pleasantly surprised to see Stark no better off. Stark’s gaze had changed though, it was back to predatory and Peter’s body buzzed in reaction. He let out a quiet huff when his back hit the nearby wall, Stark’s hand on the back of his head keeping him from a painful bump. That little courtesy flicked off whatever “danger” switch had been turned on in Peter’s mind leaving him nothing short of ravenous. He kissed back eagerly. It was a messy, aggressive kiss that made his ass clench in anticipation. It was the kind of kiss he usually only liked when he was drunk but he sort of was, drunk off the adrenaline that is.

“We have about ten more minutes before they send some intern looking for me,” Stark breathed as he switched his attention to Peter’s neck. “Marks?”

Peter nodded eagerly, “Well,” he panted, “I found you.” 

“Oh, you’re a funny one huh?” Stark taunted but said nothing else because his mouth was otherwise occupied sucking a wonderfully painful hickey. 

“You can go hard, I like it,” Peter breathed. Stark did not disappoint. He sank his teeth into Peter’s throat, a wide-open bite that literally made Peter’s knees buckle but Stark kept him from falling. “O-oh god yes, please, please.” 

“What’s the word?” Stark asked against his ear. 

“Red or two taps,” Peter answered, barely audible. He was cut off completely when strong fingers wrapped around his throat. The pressure was delicious, just the right place, just high enough, just hard enough, just enough air that he gasped and his eyes fluttered closed, his hands resting uselessly on Stark’s deltoids. 

Stark’s other hand undid Peter’s belt, then his button and fly. He came in only a couple of strokes, his vision nearly black when he did, his voice trapped beneath Stark’s grip.

There was no break though. Stark let him go and Peter nearly fell to his knees, taking deep gulps of air as his shaking fingers worked Stark’s pants open hurriedly. He didn’t care that his dick was still half hard and hanging out of his jeans still in his desperation to return the favor. 

Stark had a thick dick and for some reason Peter was pleasantly surprised. Not a colon buster but Peter’s mouth stretched around it. He gagged but didn’t back off when Stark held his head and gave another shallow thrust forward. Their eyes met and Peter blinked demurely, hoping Stark would understand it was okay and he wanted more. 

Deepthroat was not Peter’s secret talent; he was admittedly not very good at it but messy facefucking was absolutely in his top five favorite things. Yes, Michelle, Peter actually did enjoy being objectified, thank you. 

“Atta boy,” Stark murmured, the words feeling warm in Peter’s stomach. He looked up but his eyes closed in reflex when Stark thrust forward. His head rested against the wall and Peter gagged hard, tears already streaming down his cheeks. Stark backed off and Peter gasped for air before his mouth was filled back up. Spit ran down his chin. 

Both of Stark’s hands held Peter’s head and it felt very safe between them. Peter whined trembling all over as he clung to Stark’s thighs, being taken away by the moment. The smell of Stark’s cologne and natural musk, the faintly bitter taste of pre, the amazing heat of his palms, and the sight of him looming over Peter was all encompassing. 

“Here it comes, you want it?” Stark asked, his voice rough.

“Yes please, sir,” Peter breathed, cut short by Stark’s cock going down his throat again. It stayed down, Stark holding Peter’s head in place, oxygen cut off but that moment was incredible. Peter felt it throb inside of him, the semen passing straight down as he desperately held on. His lungs burned and he pulled back out of reflex but Stark didn’t let go, instead he began thrusting shallowly, as if making sure to stuff it down. 

A man had never done this to Peter before. The few he’d ever gotten this far into breathplay with would stop the second Peter tried to pull back. Stark did not. Peter squeaked but it wasn’t an intentional noise. He blinked but his vision was spotty so he shut them again, hands lifting as if to tap out but he forced himself not to. 

“That’s a good boy,” Stark rumbled fondly at him. Peter’s body flushed with pride and he finally tapped. He fell onto his ass when Stark let go, coughing a little and swallowing the spit and semen that came up when he did. Stark tugged a paper towel from the nearby dispenser and wiped his cock and underwear where Peter had drooled on him. Peter hardly noticed, he was resting his head on the wall and catching his breath.

He started when a cool towel pressed to his face. Stark was kneeling and wiped him off rather tenderly, tossing the wet one in favor of a few dry to mop up the mess from his chin, then another for his eyes.

“You look like you got into a fight, you want to go home?” Stark asked, all his predatory lust gone in favor of a gentle concern. Peter shook his head. 

“I’m fine, I have a lot of work to do,” he said, his voice broken and raspy. It sounded incredibly hot honestly. Stark pulled him to his feet and, “Jesus,” he breathed when he saw his reflection. He looked like he’d been mauled. He looked...sexy. No one had gotten that rough on him before. 

“Keep my number,” was all the goodbye he got before Stark slipped out, leaving him alone in the bathroom. 

Peter looked at himself, bruised throat and bloodshot eyes and after a moment, sent a selfie to Michelle with the text, _That was the best eight minutes of my life._

**Author's Note:**

> I love CEO Tony and intern Peter, it just gets the motor running.   
> Edit: I will definitely do more of this mini-verse.


End file.
